


on my mind

by longituddeonda



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dangerous Situations, F/M, Love Confessions, Medical Inaccuracies, Strangulation, saving javi's life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22892932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longituddeonda/pseuds/longituddeonda
Summary: you’re trying to have a peaceful night in when javier brings home yet another informant, and while you brace yourself to hear the noises all night, you’re surprised to hear something else.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 87





	on my mind

Javier fucking Peña. You’re gonna kill the man since this is the fifth time this week he’s brought a girl home and it’s only Wednesday and it’s 8pm and you want to relax after a long day. You can hear them coming up the stairs outside the building, the loud Spanish obscenities spilling from their lips in the hallway, the jingling of the keys as they enter his apartment.

He’s been doing it since you got to Colombia all those years ago, but it never ceases to hurt. Doesn’t he know how much noise he and all the women he has over make? Doesn’t he know how thin the walls are, that if they and you are in the right rooms in your respective apartments, you can hear every last word they say?

You’ve been Javier’s partner for what now feels like forever. And at some point between hiding behind walls during drug busts and the thrilling car chases through Bogotá, you fell in love.

Sometimes you wonder why you haven’t made a move. There are times when he grins at you after breaking a case or finding a lead and your heart soars, nights out drinking at bars, days where you’re on the hunt and you have each other’s backs when you wonder if maybe he feels the same. 

But you have to be reminded multiple times a week that your job relies on him fucking multiple women for valuable information, loudly.

He’s even gone so far as to offer you a night in bed with him. Multiple times. Those days are the worst. You know it would only be a one night stand and if you said yes it would break your heart.

So you settle for loving him from afar. You respect him enough to know that your feelings would only ruin things. If how he is is what makes him happy, then who are you to stop him?

You walk over to your bedroom to grab your walkman and try to drown out the sounds that will inevitably begin, hope you’ll be able to curl up on your couch and read the book you’ve been trying to start.

It takes all of three minutes for the sound of  _ whatever _ is happening to breach the weak plastic of your headphones and you groan.

This is really the last straw. It’s been such a  _ long _ day and Javier only made it worse by letting his hand linger a little longer than was considered friendly when handing you your coffee this morning and taking you out to lunch just to get out of the building. And then he had the nerve to leave early so that he could meet an informant, and you were stuck finishing up the paperwork, only to return home to the same sounds you were hearing now, finishing up.

You throw your headphones off and stand up. You were going to storm over and give Javier a piece of your mind when you hear something that is distinctively  _ not _ sexual. It sounds like they’re fighting, there are some thumps on the floor that  _ cannot _ feel good and you think you even hear something shatter.

You almost lunge over your dinner table to grab your handgun, and exit your apartment, quietly slipping over to his door, hoping he left his door unlocked. You try the handle and it glides right open.  _ Leave it to Javier to forget to lock it in the heat of things _ .

You thank everything working in your favor that Javier has an entry hallway and you’re able to enter the apartment, back pressed against the wall, unnoticed. You slide closer, and the fighting has quieted. There’s no longer any human noises, just the sound of grappling, and that could  _ definitely  _ be sex and you really don’t want to walk in on that, but you assume the worst, Javier could really be in danger.

You peak around the corner and you freeze up. Javier is on the floor, some woman has her hand gripped around his tie and is pulling, hard, from behind. His face is bright red and a bit puffy and you notice he is unconscious.

“Hey!” you yell, pointing your gun at her, and she startles, dropping the tie, and Javier’s body flops to the ground.

You stare blankly at the limp body of your partner, which gives the woman enough time to slip out of the open window to the balcony, and you watch as she jumps over the railing, only a few feet to the ground below from the first-floor apartment.

She shouldn’t have gotten away. You could have shot her. You know that. But your breathing is shaky and you still are holding your gun up at the window, seconds after she’s gone, staring at Javier.

You finally come to and rush to the ground beside him, kneeling by his head. He can’t be dead. He just can’t be. You let out a sob and your throat is tight and pained with the oncoming tears. If Javier is dead? You don’t dare to think about what you would do.

You pull his arm into your hand, searching for a pulse, and upon finding it, you let yourself relax for a brief moment, before peeling off the tie from his neck. His skin is red and marred with a thick ring of abrasions from the rough fabric, and there are some frantic scratches on either side, suggesting he had further injured himself trying to get out.

You reach out a hand to touch the wounds, gasping as you feel how hot his skin is.

Javier sputters under your touch, his eyes springing open and coughing a few times until he calms down.

“Javi!” you exhale, “Javi, holy shit, I thought you were dead.”

He’s gasping for air, and you help him up, dragging his body over to the floor beside the couch, propping his back up against it.

You know he’s going to need treatment for the wounds on his neck, and you jump to your feet, rushing over to the kitchen. You open the freezer and push things around until you find an icepack and then throw open some cabinets, searching for some sort of pain medication. There. Inside one of the cabinets lies a few bottles of pills alongside a pitiful looking box of bandaids.

You bring the two items back to the living room where Javier is taking shallow breaths, and you sink to the ground next to him. The bottle is placed on the coffee table and you grab his hand and bring it and the ice pack to his neck, helping him hold it in place.

“Javi, when you’re ready, these pills are on the table here, you should take them,” you say.

“Y/N.” It’s the first word he’s said since you entered the apartment and you exhale shakily while managing to break a smile. He leans his head back on the couch, looking at the ceiling. “If you hadn’t come, I’d be—I’d—”

“Javi, don’t say that,” you say, “You’re okay now. That’s what matters.”

He brings his head back up and turns to look at you. You can feel his gaze but you really don’t know what to do. What to say. You look at the ground, waiting for something.

That something comes after almost five minutes of silence.

“If you think you can swallow you should try to take some pain meds,” you say.

“It doesn’t hurt much,” he says, voice hoarse. You know he’s lying.

“Still.”

Javier reaches forward to grab the bottle, sets down the ice pack, unscrews the cap and pours a pill into his palm. After swallowing, he replaces the ice on his neck, wincing at the contact.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask.

You want to say so much. You want to be mad at him. Mad that he got himself into this goddamn mess. But you can’t. All you can think about is how lost you would be if he hadn’t made it. How scared you had been, seeing him unconscious on the floor. The last time you had spoken with Javier about him doing this, about sleeping with the informants, it hadn’t gone well, and after today? You regretted every word you had said.

_ “Javi, you can’t keep sleeping with people to get information,” you said, slamming your hands on the desk after he brought up speaking with a fourth prostitute that week who he said would have valuable intel on one of Escobar’s  _ sicarios _. _

_ “It works,” he shook his head, continuing to pack up his things. _

_ “It works, but at what cost?” you threw up your hands, hoping it would emphasize your point, but Javier wasn’t even looking. “If someone finds out?” _

_ “Tell me our most valuable leads haven’t resulted from it?” he said and he was right. Most anything of substance had come (quite literally) from Javier fucking them. But that didn’t mean you had to be okay with it. _

_ “What if one of them knows what you’re doing? They get paid to get close to you? Try to take you out or something?” you said, voice getting dangerously loud. _

_ “God, Y/N, you don’t have to be such a stickler for the rules, we’ve broken enough already. And I only do it with the women I trust,” he said, now at the door to your office about to leave. _

_ “Fine, go fuck whoever you like, just don’t come running to me for help when you get hurt,” you said. _

It had been four months since you had that conversation, but the irony of it all didn’t escape you. You felt bad after saying it but you feel even worse now.

“Please stay,” Javier croaks out beside you.

You nod. “Okay.”

As much as it hurts to sit next to him tonight, you can’t deny him anything. Not tonight.

It’s quiet for a while. You bring one leg up to your chest and with one hand trace little circles into the carpet.

“I thought I was going to die,” he says. He drops the ice pack in his lap. “The only thing I could think of was that I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell the woman I love how much she matters to me.”

Now it’s your turn to throw your head back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You blink a few times, realizing there are tears in the corners and you don’t know where they came from. You had gotten good at pushing your feelings away, but now, knowing that Javier had almost died? You don’t know what you would do if you had lost him. Life without Javier? It would probably break you.

And then there’s this woman he’s speaking of and you don’t know what to think of it, because Javier? In love with a  _ woman _ ? Singular? That wasn’t anything you had heard of. You couldn’t picture him falling for someone, wanting to spend a life with her. But you supposed it made sense. In the face of death, people realize exactly what they want in life.

It had happened to you, a couple times. Almost anyone in the field here in Colombia had those moments. Bullets flying inches from your face. Explosions where you’re caught only a few feet away from being fatally injured. Falls through unstable flooring in the apartments in the poorest parts of Bogotá. For you, those moments reminded you how important certain people were.

You didn’t have much family back home, no one significant enough to worry about, that’s why you took such a dangerous job so far from the States. But you remember waking up in the hospital a year ago, a bullet having grazed your side. Your final memories before blacking out were the feeling of warm blood pouring out across your stomach and Javier’s face. Javier, who was stuck in Bogotá for the week as you risked your life in Medellín.

“Maybe you shouldn’t waste any more time and tell her,” you say.

God knows you regretted not telling him. It was for the best, you knew. Javier wasn’t exactly the sort of guy to settle down. And the pain of rejection wouldn’t be as bad as the dull ache of seeing him every day afterwards. But if Javier loved someone? And she didn’t know? She deserved to know how much she mattered to him. That she was important enough to be the face he saw before he thought he would die.

“I don’t know,” he says, and you look over at him, brow furrowed. “She doesn’t think very highly of me.”

“How could she not think highly of you, Javi?” you say. You think the world of him, but there were plenty of reasons why someone might not. It’s not the moment to bring those up.

“It’s you, Y/N.”

You blink. Javier likes  _ you? _

“I know,” he continues, “I know you don’t—and you don’t have to— _ fuck _ . I don’t want to make this awkward”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him and shaking your head, “I—Me?”

You can’t believe what Javier had said. That all this time you were sitting on your feelings for each other, not saying anything.

“Yes, you,” he says, “Since day one, you’ve been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And you’re 100% there for everyone we work with. You care about people. You came rushing in today to save me even when you didn’t have to, when I didn’t deserve it. You said all that stuff, and you were right, but you still came—”

“I had to, Javi, I—I care about to you, too.” you say, “I couldn’t let you get hurt. I couldn’t lose you... I love you.”

Javier reaches an arm up to cup your cheek. Every inhale and exhale feels slower than ever before. His face has softened, a faint smile crosses his lips, more than his usual stern expressions ever allow, and there’s a certain  _ something _ in his eyes, a glistening, and you bite your lip instinctively. And that’s when he leans in to take your lips in his own, and you, sinking into him, climb to your knees so that you can wrap an arm around his waist and intertwine your other hand into his hair.

It’s perfect until it isn’t as Javier jolts away with a noise that sounds painful and you jump back.

“Are you okay?” you’re back into panic mode, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I, uh.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I think I got too into it, moved my neck too much.”

“Do you need—”

“No, Y/N, I don’t need anything. I’m fine. I just, I need you,” he admits.

“Me too,” you say and sit back down next to him, leaning your head against his shoulder and reaching down, grabbing his hand, and interlocking his fingers with yours.


End file.
